


The Most Beautiful Bird In The World

by MillicentCordelia



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Gobblepot Holiday Gift Exchange 2015, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillicentCordelia/pseuds/MillicentCordelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald stood and admired himself in a nearby mirror, smiling in a practiced way so as to show off the dental work that had cost him a Queen’s ransom. One prominent strand of snow-white hair stood out against his sleek black locks.  </p>
<p>He adjusted the blinds until the light in the room was to his liking. “There, that brings out the best in my complexion. Send in the reporters, Gabe-tell them I’m ready for my close-up!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mysteries of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Masterplanner](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Masterplanner).



> This work is my holiday gift to The Masterplanner, who requested an AU in which Oswald acquires a veritable army of ardent admirers, fanatical fans, and giddy groupies.

Oswald awoke to the sweet sounds of birdsong; pianissimo, as if from far away. Gradually, the sounds became louder, until the trilling was replaced by insistent squawking, and finally, obnoxious honking. He sat up and punched some buttons on the mechanical penguin that sat on his bedside table. 

“That’ll do, Mortimer.” 

He threw back the down comforter, and wriggled into his bathrobe- a modest little number of black and silver burn-out velvet, trimmed in ostrich feathers. Slipping his feet into matching velvet slippers, he threw back the drapes and stepped out onto his balcony. It was warm for December, brilliantly sunny. He regarded the winter gardens of his estate with pleasure, as he watched the scene unfolding below. A half dozen of his security guards were chasing three young, attractive, stark naked trespassers who- seeing as how they were soaking wet, and dripping-seemed to have recently been skinny-dipping in one of the water features. It was easy to see, there were two boys and a girl; and, they were leading the guards on a merry chase. 

“Good Morning!” Oswald yelled at them. Like magic, they stopped, staring upward, transfixed. 

“Ooooooooooooooh! It’s HIM!” one of the males said, his eyes wide. The other young man burst into tears, while the woman began screaming incoherently; delaying them long enough for the guards to tackle all three.

A fourth trespasser took advantage of the melee to dart out from behind a bush and throw herself onto the climbing rose trellis that led upwards, three stories, to Oswald’s balcony. This one was clothed, attired for rock climbing, and it took three more security guards to pull her down. She had, after all, gotten a head start. 

All flailing arms and legs, she wailed like a siren as she was being carried off: “I love you, Oswald! I LOVE YOU!!!!!”

Oswald waved and blew kisses. “Don’t forget,” he called to one of the guards. “Give them all autographed photos before you throw them out!”

He went back into the bedroom, shutting the French doors behind him. 

“Good Morning, my dear Gabriel!” Oswald smiled warmly. “Don’t you look the picture of perfection, in your new attire!”

Gabe had entered the room, and was standing there, fidgeting; wearing an unholy hybrid of a tuxedo and a Victorian morning suit that made him look like he was headed for a steampunk convention. 

“Da guards hadda rough time with that latest buncha fans, Mr. Oswald, sir. They’ve took to coatin’ themselves with baby oil before they get in th’ reflectin’ pool. Makes ‘em tough to keep holt of. Kinda like greased pigs.”

“What those scamps won’t do to get a glimpse of their beloved! It’s just my cross to bear.” Oswald leaned over and picked up a white Persian kitten that was almost camouflaged against a plush white rug. “Well, what do you think?” He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture, indicating the room. “Don’t you love it? I think the re-decorating went splendidly!”

Gabe looked around, almost blinded by the profusion of reflective surfaces. In a niche at one end of the cavernous room, on a silver platform, was an immense round bed, draped in white tufted satin; showcased by diaphanous black drapes pulled back on either side. At the other end was a white marble fireplace. In the center of the room hung a chandelier of lead crystal stars that threw cascades of sparkling light across the floor; a glossy black tile where it wasn’t covered by fluffy white rugs. 

The walls were covered with ornamental mirrors; the furniture, silver gilt and gray velvet. The side tables were glass topped, held aloft by life sized chrome penguins. Above the mantle hung an imposingly large black and white photo in a silver frame- a portrait of Oswald, in white tie and tails. 

“It’s swell. Real classy! Just like the rest of th’ place.” Gabe tried not to stare at the anatomically correct satyrs frolicking across the fireplace screen. 

“Now, shoo, Gabriel! I’ve got to get dressed before the reporters arrive for that interview!” Oswald hurried into the bathroom.

A while later, Gabe stuck his head in as Oswald was putting the finishing touches to his typically eccentric black and emerald suit.

“Hey Boss, Nygma’s here to see ya.”

“Gabriel.” Oswald pursed his lips. “What have we talked about? You’re not some common thug, you’re a gentleman’s gentleman.”

“Mr. Cobblepot, sir. May I announce the presence of a visitor? Mr. Nygma has currently situated himself in the settin’ room, an’ he’s got a big ass bunch of fucked up lookin’ flowers.”

“That’s better, Gabriel. A few rough edges here and there, but you’re doing quite well.”

Gabe’s face lit up. “Thanks, Boss! You want I should cram the flowers in with all the others? A whole lots more just came in.”

“Yes, that’s fine, Gabriel.” Oswald walked into the sitting room with barely a trace of his former limp, his arms open wide. “Edward! Old friend!” He embraced the gangly, bespectacled man. “How are you, my dear? Well, I hope?”

Ed giggled, as he returned the hug. “If it’s information you seek, come and see me; if it’s pairs of letters you need, I have three. Who am I?”

“I’m sure I don’t know!” Oswald settled in a chair by another white marble fireplace, gesturing for Ed to do the same. 

“A Bookkeeper!” Ed dropped his voice to a whisper. “Which I’m not but I do have those letters you asked for, from the State Gaming Commission Inspector General. She was very eager to cooperate with your requests, based on the suppression of certain forensic evidence found at the murder scene of her ex-husband by one Edward Nygma.”

Oswald reached eagerly for the envelopes. “Wonderful! Such a lovely person; and besides, she didn’t kill her ex, she was just careless about the way she cleaned out his safe when she found him dead. What’s the harm in turning suspicion away from an innocent woman? Especially when it benefits my nightclubs.” 

“Not to change the subject, but what you’ve done with your hair is very becoming.”

“Oh, do you think so? I was wondering.” Oswald stood and admired himself in a nearby mirror, smiling in a practiced way so as to show off the dental work that’d cost him a Queen’s ransom. One prominent strand of snow-white hair stood out against his sleek black locks. “It’s rather flattering isn’t it?” 

Ed gazed at him with a dreamy expression. “Yes, it is. And somehow you manage to look younger, with every passing year. I’m glad the surgery on your leg was successful, it’s almost as if Fish never broke it.”

Gabe re-entered and cleared his throat. “The reporters have showed up, Mr. Oswald, Sir. May I see Mr. Ed out?”

“Don’t bother, I know the way!” Ed kissed Oswald lightly on the cheek and left with a cheery wave.

Once Ed was gone, Gabe frowned. “Boss, are you sure that guy ain’t still carryin’ a torch for you?”

“Who, Edward?” Oswald absent-mindedly returned to preening in front of the mirror. “Oh, Gabriel, who in Gotham doesn’t carry a torch for me? But, one of Eddie’s personalities is dating a cabaret dancer, and another of his personalities is dating her brother. So, who knows?” He adjusted the blinds until the light in the room was to his liking. “There, that brings out the best in my complexion. Send in the reporters, Gabe-tell them I’m ready for my close-up!”

________________________

Two hours later, Oswald was still holding court, as a crisply uniformed maid served tea and pastries to the reporters. Oswald smiled at the petite, dark haired woman. “Merci, Violette.”

“Je vous en prie, Monsieur Pingouin.”

He patted the hand of the man seated next to him. “Isn’t she a treasure? Now, as I was saying, it was after all that terrible business with Indian Hill that I decided to re-direct my efforts into strictly legitimate businesses. The Iceberg Lounge, luxury real estate, hotels, clubs, casinos, dinner theaters.”

“That was right before James Gordon became Police Commissioner, wasn’t it, Mr. Cobblepot?”

“Yes, there were a lot of changes taking place. We were all simply devastated when my dear friend Captain Barnes-who we were certain would be the next Commissioner- died of food poisoning. Poor man, I tried to warn him away from the Oysters Rockefeller at Bamonte’s.” Oswald shook his head sadly. “And now, a few more photos, and I must be on to my next appointment!”

Oswald posed by one of the mansion’s silver foil Christmas trees, flipping his bangs and tilting his head coquettishly. 

“One more question, Mr. Cobblepot! You’re Gotham’s most eligible, sought after bachelor. Any chance there’s a special someone in your life?”

Oswald smiled enigmatically. “Everyone in my life is special, my dear.” He waved his hands theatrically. “L’amour, l’amour, toujours l’amour! Who can explain the mysteries of the heart?”


	2. The Freakshow Funnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No mouthing without permission.

“What’s up, Jimbo?” Harvey Bullock sauntered into Commissioner Gordon’s office, wearing several day’s growth of beard and a bemused expression. “Alvarez tol’ me to get my ass in here on the double.”

Jim tossed the file he was studying onto his desk. “Up for a field trip? I thought a bit of fresh air might do us both some good.”

“Sure thing, partner, if by that you mean drivin’ upstate to spend the day fishin’!”

“Um, maybe not quite that much fun. I want you to drive downtown with me to help supervise the operation at Kaufman’s Jeweler’s.”

“Operation? Aw, hell no, you don’t mean Penguin and his merry band of freakazoids pickin’ up all that borrowed ice he’s gonna wear on that fancy soap opera? The one about the Dark Ages?”

“They don’t make soap operas anymore, Harv. ‘Scepters and Citadels’ is a prime time, costume drama.” Jim sighed deeply. “It bears about as much resemblance to Medieval Europe as a carousel pony does to a thoroughbred, but the fact that it’s filmed here in Gotham provides a lot of jobs for a lot of people.

Harvey snorted. “And because it’s propping up our economy, we go along with whatever stupid publicity stunt they come up with; including having Penguin guest star as King Assweasel of Transylvania, wearin’ a billion dollars worth of diamonds and jewels.”

“Oswald’s a celebrity, get used to it. I want to personally keep an eye on the police escort that’s supposed to keep those jewels safe. If anything happens to them, the GCPD’ll be disgraced, and that’s not happening on my watch.” Jim led the way to the parking garage, while Harvey continued grumbling. 

On the way downtown, Jim stopped for donuts and coffee, which cheered Harvey up considerably. “You doin’ anything special for the holidays, Jimbo?”

“Christmas weekend, little Babs’ll be at Wayne Manor with Leslie and Alfred. They invited me out there for Christmas day.”

“Ain’t that chummy. You’ve been a good sport about her marryin’ Alfie.”

“Better him than me. Besides, I like Alfred; and Bruce is like a brother for Babs. I’ve got custody the next weekend, and I’m thinking about a trip to California to see my sister.”

As they pulled onto the street where Kaufman’s was located, they were greeted by a bizarre tableau.

Squad cars had blocked the street off for through traffic, but the officers had failed to prevent a crowd of screaming fans from spilling across the barriers and lining the street. The fans grew more even more frenzied as Oswald’s entourage came into view. Leading the way was a leather-clad security detail on motorcycles, closely followed by a convertible filled with models wearing glittery penguin costumes. They were shooting tee shirts into the crowd, using a mounted device that looked like a Gatling gun.

The stretch limo that was next in line was unmistakably Oswald’s; it was a bright sky blue, painted with scenes of ice-skating penguins. The limo pulled up to the jeweler’s, as Jim and Harvey worked their way through the crowd. They pushed their way close to the front, just as Gabe got out, to hold the limo door open for Oswald. 

Oswald emerged in a swirl of plum colored velvet; a fitted three-piece suit, and a matching full-length, gold brocade cape. He turned and smiled. 

The crowd roared, and surged forward. 

As Harvey was being smashed over the head with a sign that bore a drawing of a penguin and the words: “MARRY ME PLEZ!”, Jim felt himself being lifted off his feet, as someone screamed “Outta my way, Granpa!!!” in his ear. He was grabbed, pulled, flung from one group to another, until a pair of gargantuan arms appeared out of nowhere and wrapped him in a powerful embrace. The next thing he knew, Gabe had carried him, bridal style, into the jewelers, and the door had slammed behind them. 

“Jim! Old friend! Don’t you look fetching?” Oswald batted his lashes as Gabe set Jim on his feet. “Are you going to jump out of a cake for me?”

Jim looked down at himself. His jacket and shirt had been torn off, leaving him clad in a ripped undershirt and, inexplicably, his tie.

Jim glared, without responding. “Harvey! Call for back-up, we need very available officer here.”

“Already done. I told ‘em we got a cross here between a zombie apocalypse and Dante’s Inferno.” Harvey took a long look at Oswald. “ You should talk about what anybody else’s wearin’. Whose grave did you rob for that get-up? Liberace’s, or Elvis’?”

“Vivienne Westwood, Detective.” Oswald handed Jim the sequined cape, and winked at him. ”You should wrap up in this, Commissioner. I’d hate for those beautiful biceps of your to get chilly.”

Mr. Kaufman appeared; a gaunt, silver haired man who looked as nervous as Jim felt. “The merchandise is waiting in the car out back. Please tell me he’s not the only security.” He nodded at Gabe.

Oswald pointed to Harvey and Jim. “Oh no, these delightful civil servants will accompany us.” 

Oswald turned to greet a young man with black spiked hair, wearing a plum suit identical to his own. “Blaine, here, will impersonate me and leave through the front, in a few moments, while we sneak out the back. Don’t worry Mr. Kaufman-I’m the luckiest bird you’ll ever meet.”

_______________

The drive to the “Scepters and Citadels” set was blessedly uneventful. The van Gabe drove wasn’t as plush as the limo Oswald’s double was traveling in, but it was roomy and comfortable- and accommodated Jim, Harvey, Oswald, a case of priceless jewels, and a manicurist named Rudolpho. 

Oswald was in an upbeat mood. “Jim, that cape is adorable on you, that color does wonders for your eyes! Are both of you gentlemen certain you don’t want a mani-pedi? It’s on the house, why not allow yourselves to be pampered?” 

While Harvey kept up a conversation with Carlos Alvarez on his cell phone, Jim sat with his arms folded, scowling. “This is all just a game to you isn’t it? There are plenty of people in this city who’d kill to get their hands on those gems.”

“No doubt, Jim, but must you be so pessimistic? Honestly, I......wait. Rudolpho! Did I give you permission to suck on my toes?” Oswald looked sternly at the blonde man at his feet.

Rudolpho took Oswald’s big toe out of his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cobblepot; I don’t know what got into me.” He hung his head. 

“It’s all right, darling, but I must insist- no mouthing without permission. Now, where was I? Oh, yes-Jim. You simply must cheer up! Didn’t anyone ever tell you, if you frown all the time your face just might freeze that way?”

“No,” Jim growled. “Now tell me about the other actors who’re going to be filming with you, while you wear these jewels.”

“Let’s see, today that would be Veda Pierce and Kaitlyn Asquith, who play Queen Asenath and Crown Princess Euphemia of the house of Wyvernshire. I’m guest starring as Duke Oliver Skenfrith, a pretender to the throne, who is the much younger brother of Asenath, with whom I have an incestuous relationship and twin sons. They created the part just for me, you know. Kaitlyn is a stunning young woman, very sweet, and Veda is a horrible cow who actually believes she’s the Queen Mother.”

Harvey interrupted. “I read an article where Veda said that stripe in your hair makes you look like you took a wrong turn at the intersection of ghetto fabulous and hillbilly Goth.”

“She’s a dried up, jealous old has been held together with Botox and Spanx!”, Oswald hissed. “And she can’t stand it that the ratings prove how much the show’s fans love me.”

“So, she’d have something to gain by sabotaging your success. Including, planning some disaster involving those jewels.”

“Jim, you’ve a one track mind. The jewels are going to be perfectly safe, and wait ‘till you see me in them! Let’s do change the subject. Did I ever tell you about the time Don Beretti and Don Cassamento fought a duel over who would get to ask for my hand in marriage? They shot each other dead, poor dears, it was frightfully romantic........” 

Jim ground his teeth and looked out the window. They couldn’t reach their destination soon enough to suit him.


	3. The Number One Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love conquers all.

Harvey and Jim stood quietly, behind the crew filming “Scepters and Citadels”. Oswald had been truthful about the ‘wow’ factor of his costume, which included a faux ermine cloak, over the knee boots of white satin with gold embroidery, and the jewels from Kaufmans’: a diamond and emerald coronet, handfuls of spectacular diamond rings, and a neck chain culminating in a breath-taking ruby the size of a hen’s egg. They watched as Oswald committed various villainies with maniacal glee, stabbed Queen Asenath with an enchanted dagger, and fled screaming from the ghost of his Uncle, Alaric of Ramsbottom. 

When the day ended they escorted Oswald back to his dressing room, to find Gabe standing in front of the dressing room door, his arms folded. “Mr. Cobblepot, sir, we gotta problem. Dere’s a stiff in th’ sally ban.”

Harvey looked mystified. “ A stiff in the –what???”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “He means “salle de bain”, detective, I’m teaching him to speak French.”

“Show us.” Gabe led Jim and Harvey into the room, where they the body of a woman lying on the bathroom floor; her throat cut, her features obliterated by acid. 

“Look at the costume; this is Kaitlyn Asquith.” Jim knelt by the body. “She’s still warm. Oswald, you’d better leave while we look around.”

“I got forensics on the way.” Harvey scanned the bathroom, then turned his attention to the dressing room, which was filled to overflowing with floral arrangements. “There’s plenty enough flowers here for a funeral, but no blood anywhere. I think she was killed elsewhere.”

“This doesn’t add up. They didn’t have enough time to do this, between when she finished her last scene, and now. Yet here she is. Someone must have hated her with a passion; wanted to obliterate her face. From the looks of her hands, she put up a fight.” Jim opened the dressing room door and stepped outside. “What’s all that noise?”

“How dare you accuse me, you foul-mouthed runt! You beak-nosed vermin!” Veda Pierce was being held back by two security guards, while Oswald stood a little distance away, looking disdainful.

“Because I’m a better person than you, I won’t threaten you with violence. But no one would blame me if I pulled that skanky weave right off your head.” Oswald wrinkled his nose, as if at a bad smell. “You had everything to gain by eliminating Kaitlyn, because every time you two shared a scene, she made you look like a hideous, washed-up crone.”

“Shut up!” Jim yelled, “The both of you! Somebody put these two in separate rooms and pack those jewels back up, before anything else happens.” He turned to see Eddie arriving with ADA Harvey Dent.

“Dent? Why are you at a crime scene?”

“Don’t worry, Jim, I’m not going to get in your way. Eddie was kind enough to allow me to accompany him, since I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Cobblepot.” Dent reached for Oswald’s hand. “May I?” He lifted the hand to his lips, all the while gazing into Oswald’s eyes. “You’re even more dazzling in person. Do you suppose I could trouble you for an autograph?”

“Jim, wherever have you been hiding this charming man? I’ll autograph a photo for you Mr. Dent, as soon as Gabriel fetches my briefcase.” Oswald and Dent went off arm in arm, leaving Jim looking like he was going to explode. Eddie hurried into the dressing room to work with the body, while Harvey and Jim went to interview Veda.

“I hope you don’t mind if I smoke.” Veda was fifty-ish (give or take a few years), and handsome (in the right light). “I was a star long before that wretched little twat was ironing Fish Mooney’s undergarments.”

Harvey sat down next to her, nose to nose despite the smoke. “So, you and Ms. Asquith weren’t the best of friends, either, were you? D’ja hate her as much as you hate Oswald?”

“Of course I did, detective, just for different reasons. Oswald’s ridiculous; a Chihuahua with a Napoleon complex, who wants to be an Irish Wolfhound. Kaitlyn was a no talent bimbo, but she was drop dead gorgeous, and that’s all that really matters. All she had to do was bare her quivering cleavage, and the audience forgot I existed. So yes, I had motive. Tons of it.” Veda took a deep drag of her cigarette. “But I’m not stupid. I may have wished her dead, but I never wished to see the inside of a womens’ prison. Besides, as much as it pains me to say it-neither I nor that scrawny piss-ant could have killed her, we were both on set the whole time-and you were watching. She was the only one who left before the rest of us.”

Jim and Harvey left Veda to her smokes, and proceeded to question the rest of the cast and crew. They were almost finished, and were grilling the sullen clean-up crew, when they heard more yelling. “Now what?!?” Jim ran towards the noise, with Harvey right behind him. They arrived at the source of the noise just in time to watch Gabe break down a door. 

“Sumtin’s wrong, da boss ain’t answerin’!” Gabe went through the door like a battering ram; and there was Harvey Dent, sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Oswald, and the jewels, were gone. As Jim felt for Dent’s pulse, a uniformed officer burst into the room. “Commissioner! Veda Pierce is gone, too!”

“Fuckin’ Hell!” Harvey grabbed Jim’s arm and ran after Gabe, who was moving fast. Gabe didn’t slow down until he reached the van; Harvey pulled Jim inside, and three more armed thugs piled in after them. Gabe floored it, and the van took off.

“Gabe! How do you know where to go?” Harvey yelled.

“Boss got a chip inserted behind his left ear. Like a cat! I can track him on my cell.”

Harvey got on his phone, and three squad cars pulled in behind them, sirens blaring. 

“Dem mooks better know how ta’drive!” Gabe yelled back. Within another ten minutes, a silver Mercedes came into view. “That’s da boss!” Gabe drove like a madman, barreling through red lights and stop signs, and -more than once- running other cars off the road.

The van was keeping up with the Mercedes, weaving in and out of traffic, until it abruptly veered down a side street, tires squealing. By the time Gabe made the turn, it’d vanished. To the right was a strip mall; to the left, the Wentworth, a luxury hotel. Gabe took a left, and saw the Mercedes drive into the parking garage at the other end of the lot. He sped after it, and they screeched to a stop just in time to see Oswald being dragged onto the elevator by a woman wearing a backpack, with a gun in her hand. 

Gabe ran to a walkway, which connected the garage to the hotel. “They’ll be two floors above us when they get in, but I can track ‘em.” Once inside, Gabe dove for the stairwell and took the steps two at a time, with Jim right behind him; the uniforms and thugs bringing up the rear.

Harvey took the elevator.

As Gabe and Jim approached the roof, they were nearly knocked down by hotel patrons fleeing in the opposite direction, throwing themselves down the stairs. “There’s a crazy woman with a gun up there!” one man shouted. 

Jim was the first out on the roof; it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the sunlight. A blond woman, with a plastic mask over her face, was holding Oswald at gunpoint; his hands were fastened behind his back with a cable tie, and there was duct tape over his mouth. She aimed the gun at Oswald’s head; they were precariously close to the edge of the roof. “I want a helicopter! I want it on this roof, and I want it now!”

Jim tried to stall her while he assessed the situation. “Stay calm! We can work this out. Nobody has to get hurt.” 

“No talk! Do as I say, or else!” The blonde was becoming more and more agitated. 

“Jim, you need to hear this.” Harvey spoke just above a whisper. “ Harvey Dent’s fine, somebody hit him in the head, but it wasn’t Veda. They found Veda Pierce in the trunk of that Mercedes. She’s alive, and get this. The dead body ain’t Kaitlyn Asquith, it’s her stunt double. Asquith didn’t have any tattoos, and the dead woman does.”

Jim took a few steps forward. “We know who you are Kaitlyn. Let Oswald go. Veda’s alive, it’ll go much easier for you if you stop now.”

“Fuck you! You don’t know what it’s like! They were going to replace me, with some nobody, and make this dirtbag a regular! My whole life was ruined! I’m gonna start over, someplace far away, and these jewels are gonna pay my way!” 

While Kaitlyn screamed at Jim, one of Oswald’s thugs slid around behind a potted palm tree, and made a grab for her gun. 

What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion, before Jim’s eyes. She turned, shot wild, hit the man in the leg. Gabe charged in from the other side; Jim went straight for her, but he wasn’t fast enough. She stumbled, fired again, hit nothing; fell against Oswald, who was scrambling to get away, and knocked him over the balustrade. Jim watched in horror as Oswald toppled head first off the roof; it took the full weight of Gabe and Harvey to keep Jim from throwing himself off, as well, in an effort to save Oswald. 

Oswald knew he was doomed. As he plunged downward, he closed his eyes and hoped that the fifteen-story fall would end with a quick, and relatively painless death. 

The masked man dove and swung through the air, graceful as a trapeze artist. In one elegant swoop, he grasped Oswald around the waist and sailed with him through an open window in the building next door. Jim wasn’t sure if he saw what he thought he did, or he’d lost his mind, until he heard Harvey spluttering. “That was like a, a mother-freakin’ circus act! Who the hell is that fucker with the rope?”

Oswald was right-he was one lucky bird. 

____________

Oswald settled against the pillows with a sigh of relief. A long soak in a hot bath had eased some of his aches and pains, and the warmth from the fireplace- plus a snifter of brandy- had gone a log way towards settling his jangled nerves. He looked up at the mirror on the bedroom ceiling, and was well satisfied with the reflection he saw of a slender, dark haired man, wearing black silk pajamas. 

He was almost asleep when he heard footsteps in the adjacent sitting room. The bedroom door opened; the footsteps continued into the bathroom; he heard the shower running, and then the sound of someone brushing their teeth. 

“Have you eaten? Here’s a brandy for you; poor dear, you’re all worn out.” Oswald sat up and wrapped his arms around his visitor, who placed a finger under Oswald’s chin; gently tilting his head back for a kiss.

“It was the worst day of my life. I thought I’d lost you.” Jim hugged Oswald tightly, burying his face in his hair. 

“But here I am! And you’ll never guess who saved me! I couldn’t say much with all those other policepersons around.”

Jim settled back, with Oswald in his arms. “It was Bruce, who else? The mysterious masked crimefighter’s making quite a name for himself. Alfred’s beside himself, but Bruce’s eighteen, and there’s no stopping him.”

“He needs a better name than “mysterious masked crimefighter.” Something with some pizzazz.” Oswald pulled up the comforter and laid his head on Jim’s chest. “Lee called this afternoon, they want us to come out for Christmas Day. I told her even you take some time off for Christmas.”

“How would you feel about a trip to San Francisco, to see my sister and her family, for New Year’s?”

Oswald yawned, and stretched. “That sounds delightful. Anywhere you want to go, sweetheart, is fine with me.”

“Ozzie; don’t go to sleep yet. I need to ask you something. Well, two somethings. First, would you mind if we changed the bedroom around a little? The decorators left it sort of...cold looking. I’d like it better if it was a little cozier.”

“For you, anything. What’s the second something?”

Jim picked up a small box he’d set on the bedside table. “Open it.”

Inside was a ring box that held two gold and platinum rings. “Merry Christmas. It’s one for each of us, Ozzie. We’ve kept our relationship behind closed doors for three years; but now - I say we can do as we please. I love you; and, I want to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

“Have you? Just try to get away from me, Jim Gordon! Of course I’ll marry you.” Oswald threw his arms around Jim’s neck. “Finally, we can stop sneaking around!”

“And you can stop playing at being a diva.” Jim couldn’t stop smiling. “You do realize how badly this’ll disappoint your devoted fans.”

“You’re the only fan I need. Besides-all this diva stuff was sort of a plan-to make myself a local celebrity as well as a legitimate businessman. To show you I could be someone other than a mob boss.” Oswald lowered his eyes. “So that I’d be good enough for you. So you wouldn’t have to be ashamed of me.”

“I was never ashamed of you, Ozzie. There was a time when I was afraid that being open about being involved with a gangster would end my career. I was too stupid to see how little any career matters when stacked up against the one person you can’t live without.”

“My sweet Jim–have I told you today how much I love you?” 

“Yes, but tell me again.” They lay back on the pillows, as Jim kissed Oswald’s neck. “ I never get tired of hearing it.”

And they lived happily ever after; except for having to battle a few super villains, help Bruce out of some scrapes, worry about Batgirl’s shenanigans, and cope with the scratchiness of Jim’s eventual mustache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and Best Wishes for the New Year, to all the Gotham fandom!
> 
> Go to this link http://millicentcordelia.tumblr.com/post/139321176838/happy-valentines  
> on Tumblr to see illustrations created by the amazing Selene Volturo for this fic!


End file.
